


Nothing Beside Remains

by azephirin



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Alien Sex, Alternate Canon, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, British Character, Comment Fic, F/M, Gods, Porn Battle, Quotations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 14:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Nothing beside remains: round the decay / Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, / The lone and level sands stretch far away.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Beside Remains

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Porn Battle VIII](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/10575.html) and originally posted [here](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/10575.html?view=953423#t953423). Title and summary from "[Ozymandias of Egypt](http://www.bartleby.com/106/246.html)," by Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Naked, she is both familiar and foreign, the slender sinews of her body and the cool blue shadows of her skin. Her hips fit perfectly in his hands, as he always knew they would, and she's warm like any woman, like any human.

She leans down to kiss him, and the dark waves of her hair wash over his collarbones and throat. Her eyes stay open, and she's beautiful, regal, alien. She nibbles at his lips, and he realizes that she's doing it not for his pleasure but for her own exploration, learning texture and taste. She opens his mouth with hers, and their tongues meet for a few moments before she pulls back. She looks down at him appraisingly, and he knows she's about to make some sort of comment about the strangeness of this custom; he cuts her off by tangling his hands in her hair and drawing her back down to him.

She goes, and when she moves he can feel the slick warmth of her against his cock--a god aroused like a woman. He reaches down, strokes her clit, and she closes her eyes and tips her head back in satisfaction.

She sinks down onto him slowly, carefully, as though cataloging the sensations even as she shudders around him. She rides him with unhurried grace, her back arching as the muscles in her thighs flex. He traces them with his fingers, letting his touch describe their changing lines. Mostly he looks up at her--the curve of her neck, the indentation in her lower lip when she bites it unconsciously. Her breasts are small and perfect, pink nipples surrounded by brown areolae, and he wishes he could suck them into his mouth, but the angle is wrong; he settles for putting his hands there, rubbing lightly until the nipples harden and she gasps.

She comes first, and he doesn't know whether it makes her seem less strange, or more. The sound that breaks from her throat is sudden, guttural--human and animal both at once. He flips them over, drives into her as her legs tangle around his and her nails leave the marks of her second orgasm on his back. The sharp bites of pain set him off, and his climax is intense, rushing like a dammed river, overrunning the banks and then draining away; he collapses on top of her, panting, flooded, devastated, empty.

She sleeps, unconcerned, and he watches, hand moving idly up and down her spine. He murmurs, "Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair," but she doesn't wake.


End file.
